Trials
by triffickie
Summary: Kiss Kiss Bang Bang fic. Harry doesn't like assumptions. HarryPerry.


**trials**  
fandom: kiss kiss bang bang  
rating: pg-13  
pairing: harry/perry  
word count: 2,200  
disclaimer: Shane Black, I apologise. You own. I don't make any money.  
notes: For Tiriel for New Year's Resolutions 06 (yuletidetreasure dot org). Hoping I got everything right.

---

I don't like assumptions.

Like every time there's a film with a gay character and a straight one, half the audience assumes the gay character wants the straight one, or just has a crush on him, or that something has to have happened between them or at least the straight guy thought about it, and suddenly it's all "Ooh, maybe he's not so straight after all". Don't you just hate that?

As if stuff like that happens and then they just don't show it because the straight guy has to be straight enough to appeal to the straight masses and anyway, they can't really have more gay stuff in what's already an R-rated film. But still, like if you think about the plot, that's pretty fucking major for something like that to happen between two central characters, right.

But it's not like that happens, really, the whole gay sex thing but that's just people for you, seeing the world through their own special sex-tinted tits – glasses, glasses. I meant to say glasses there, sorry.

Except this time it did really happen with me and Perry. It wasn't like a scenario with an overly sexual gay person and a really confused straight one, though, because Perry's not like that and I'm not like that. But it did happen and I'm not going to lie about it, except if Harmony asks in which case I'm usually like, "Honey, just because I fell asleep on our wedding night, it doesn't mean anything."

I'm always about to say, "And if I had to do a guy, I probably wouldn't go for Perry anyway, because he's pretty pro with that stuff, and would just laugh at a newbie like me." but that always makes it sound like I've _thought_ about it, so I usually shut up after "it doesn't mean anything" to which I often add "Come on!" and "Are you crazy?" simply for emphasis.

Shit, sorry, digressed a bit there. The point is that yeah, it happened. Oh, and the wedding night thing, I was really fucking wasted, so don't even think that's got anything to do with this.

It all happened way before the wedding and after Perry got his legs back but before he grew a ponytail because yeah, never really grasped that ponytail thing – I mean, understood why he grew one, not literally grasped the ponytail. Though I did once sort of yank it a bit, because sometimes you just have those impulses you can't fight off like if the girl who sits in front of you in class and she has braids, and you're only nine so of course you have to pull on one of her braids or dip it in ink or something, even if you don't like the girl or anything. Not that we had ink in school, I wasn't born in the 1930's.

Yeah, so anyway, Perry got really upset and said something like

"Do you have a death wish I don't know about? Shit, man, could've just told me, we could've arranged a really nice death for you, with a choir of angels and all the works."

"Sorry, _fuck_, so sorry, I don't know what I was doing, it was just so _there_." But no defence-slash-excuse never really works with Perry when he's all pissy and offended, as if I'd just thrown his gun in the lake again or something.

"It was just so _there_? Next time I feel like pulling your arm out of its socket – "

"Jesus fucking Christ, it's just hair, Perry. Don't have to be all gay about it."

"It's about the principle, shithead. We work together but we don't randomly grab at each other."

"Oh, like the time you didn't randomly grab my face and kiss me?" I didn't mean to bring it up, and didn't really want to but I just sort of blurted it out. I try not to remember it most of the time when working with Perry because just sort of ruins the mood, like I also never think about how he fucked me over once or how Harmony slept with Chuck Chutney.

"Lesser of two evils, didn't on that moment feel like explaining the cops why we were loading a dead girl in the trunk of my car. And anyway, how about the other time when you – "

"Target moving," I said then as just on time Mr. Foster had come out of the motel-room, leaving his French model mistress behind and moving towards his Benz. Thank God, too, because Perry was just bringing up this one incident where – oh right, I was actually meant to tell you about _that_ incident, kind of the whole point of the story here.

But it's good to have a little back story even if it's completely unrelated and actually happened after this story, so not really back story as much as an epilogue of sorts. A shitty sort of epilogue because this story doesn't necessarily lead up to that story. But shit, what the fuck is this crap, it's not like I'm narrating Episode 1: the Gay Menace to you and you need to know that the story actually continues in what are much better stories, though shittier technologywise.

So anyway, we were on a stake out and sitting in a car in the most typical private detective manner. We weren't eating anything because Perry doesn't like to get his car all messed up unless it's blood of some dead hooker who wasn't dead when we had her there but I am _so_ not getting into that story right now because I'm narrating this one. We had sodas, though, I think. Perry drank Fanta, for some reason. We'll get to how I found out about that, but let's say I didn't peek into his mug (oh, and that's not an euphenism, either – though if it was, I didn't mean to "peek" into "his mug" but that just sort of happens when you're between apartments and staying at a friend's who's too used to living alone).

I was sitting there and attempting to make conversation.

"I never really got why people cheat on each other so much. Did you see this guy's wife, wow, what a fox for someone her age. How could he get tired of her, I mean she seemed to have an amazing persona as well and – "

"Really none of our fucking business, Harry," Perry said in a tired sort of way because yeah, okay, I kind of talk about this whole cheating thing a lot on stake outs because the topic always seems relevant. No shit Sherlock, yeah, whatever.

"I just don't understand it, I mean, fuck, I would never do it to Harmony. She's the one, I just know it. I don't need anything else, anyone else. These fuckjobs should just become single again and quit this bullshit."

"And thank _you_ for the moral lecture, the guy who steals shit for a living." If Perry was the type to roll his eyes, he probably would've.

"_Used to_," I corrected him half-assedly and then we sat in silence for a couple of minutes, staring at the large house and it's door.

"So, what's your situation like, still looking for Mr Right?" I eventually asked, and Perry looked at me, a bit weirded out that I asked him that. We don't usually discuss that shit because in all honesty I don't care or want to know, but I don't really like silences on stake outs much.

"You don't want to know about it, so why ask?" He looked out the window, avoiding my look.

"Because hey, we're buddies and I want to know what's up with you. I mean, I don't need any details but we're buddies and you know I'm with Harmony and I never know if you're with anyone."

"Harry, listen, no offence but stop being a fucking dipshit. The topic makes you uncomfortable, that's cool, I have no problem with it. Let's just leave it alone."

"Hey, I'm _not_ homophobic. I'm totally cool with discussing it." Perry didn't say anything to this, just glanced at me in that annoying way that suggested he knew I was lying. So naturally I had to be a fucking idiot and exaggerate a bit. "I'm comfortable with my sexuality."

"I'm sure you are, Mr This-is-every-shade-of-wrong." He said it sarcastically with the sort of weight he tries to end conversations with me. Of course he should know by now that it never fucking works.

"Yeah, but that was different. We'd only just met, you were just some gay private eye who suddenly grabs my face and kisses me. Of course I freaked out, did you know how large your face is, it's terrifying to have it shoved against my own."

Again Perry remained quiet, probably because of the face comment, so I continued to dig myself into a hole.

"I mean, fuck, if that happened again now when I know you as Perry and like, really know you and we're friends, I'd be totally cool with it, no 'every shade of wrong' business."

Perry snorted. At this point I could've turned back and been all, "Yeah, okay, I lied and don't really want to know who you shove your cock up. Let's talk about movies again." but naturally I didn't because that just would've been smart.

"You can try me if you like," I said and Perry looked at me like I was fucking nuts.

"Fuck you, I'm not participating in your homosexuality trials. Christ."

"Trials? Hey, I know which way I swing. You try out shit in college if you feel like trying out at all. But fine, if you want to act all – "

It was then I trailed off because I tried to think of a clever way to incorporate some sort of a faggot joke into the phrase "high and mighty". I'll admit this wasn't exactly very mature of me but shitty puns is just what I do when I'm mad at Perry, ever since I discovered smacking him or other forms of physical abuse really never fucking works out. I mean, sure it often seems like a lot of people are exceptionally good at kicking my ass but Perry's like Bruce Lee or something. A white, gay, chunky sort of Bruce Lee.

Anyway, as I trailed off Perry let out this sound like half-way between a huff and a sigh and then he leaned over and pulled at my collar a bit and, well, kissed me. At first I was all surprised and a bit bothered and felt the need to pull away but then I remembered my stupid pledging of heterosexual comfortability. Because yes, Harry, the straightest thing in the world is to convince your homosexual friend-slash-collague to make out with you. Josef on a poptart I'm fucking stupid.

So I stayed in the kiss a bit too long, I admit. It wasn't a really good kiss or a bad one, just a sort of regular one except I smelled cologne instead of perfume and felt Perry's stubble (ha, not so clean-shaven after all, the bastard). It wasn't too wet or too dry or uncomfortable and there were no tongues involved, at least not until Perry moved back a bit and probably tried to break it off but I sort of leaned my mouth harder against his and yeah, it became way too long a kiss.

Of course, when we finally broke off Perry noticed the woman we were following had come out of the motel room and driven away. He started a long string of curses and then didn't say anything for the rest of the drive, which suited my mood because I didn't want him to evaluate my performance or discuss why I shoved my tongue down his throat or held his neck a bit or – well, it just didn't feel like the most ideal topic of discussion.

The next morning we were both irate that we sort of really fucked up the gig but you get over these things pretty fast. They don't matter in the long run. And as for the gay stuff, well, you know. A couple of very mean jokes and we considered it dealt with. Neither of us brings it up anymore. Even when Perry really wants to get under my skin (like, _metaphorically_, people), he mentions other stuff that pisses me off. Chuck Chutney is a special favorite.

But yeah, I'm going to conclude this now. I know, I know. You're not going to walk away from reading this with the most valuable lesson of your entire life. Well, unless you're struggling to decide if you should convince your work buddy to make out with you, in which case my advice would be – don't. It can kind of mess with the work relationship. At least temporarily. I hope I made someone's life a little easier with that. But really, if you're looking for fantastically philosophical conclusions you can treasure for life, why did you start reading this? Go read some book Oprah recommended, shit. Watch a French film. Anything.

I need a smoke now.


End file.
